


Of Ashes and Dust

by starlistic



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Team as Family, Thyma Lives, daemon AU, implied Burnish experimentation but nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22813678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlistic/pseuds/starlistic
Summary: The moment someone awakens as Burnish, their daemons regain the ability to shapeshift, like a child. Except they’re still fully grown. It’s weird, and unnerving, and nobody knows why it happens.But like everything else about Burnish, the Mad Burnish revel in it.Promare, but with daemons this time.
Relationships: Lio Fotia & Gueira & Meis, Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (known daemons listed at the end of each chapter) 
> 
> help, I've fallen into Promare and I don't want to get out :3c

Burning Rescue’s vehicles are too fast to run alongside for any extended period of time, to Galo and Spitha’s disappointment.

The wailing sirens have their hearts pounding with excitement, but having to wait for launch means that Spitha is forced to chase her own tail to vent their restless energy.

“You’re making me dizzy,” Vincere complains, watching the blur of white and black.

“What?” Spitha says, not bothering to stop her spinning. She does slow down a little, though. “I can’t hear you over all this energy we have because you won’t let us _out_ yet!” Galo laughs, reaching down to brush a hand past her spotted fur.

Lucia snorts. “He said you’re gonna get dizzy and fall over when we launch you,” she says, grinning. “He’s boring, don’t listen to him.”

“Lucy, _why_ , don’t enable them—”

“The more excited they get, the better they test our tech, Vinny!” She checks the vectors on the screen in front of her, tapping away on her keyboard.

Over the comms, Ignis sighs in a burst of static, but it’s Soleil who rumbles, “The more they’ll ramble in their self-announcing speech, too.”

“We don’t ramble, we just pump up the crowd,” Galo retorts, affronted.

“They’re running away from a Burnish fire, they don’t need that kind of distraction. It’s a firefight, not a spectacle.”

Spitha huffs, finally coming to a stop. She wobbles a bit, just the tiniest bit dizzy from her frenzied spinning, though they’d never say as much aloud. If anyone asks, daemons in dog form are definitely immune to the negative effects of spinning around in a tight circle at ridiculous speeds. “It’s reassuring, though! Better than having them panic, right?”

“Minimally,” Ignis says. Nothing else comes through the comms, but they can envision Ignis trading looks with Soleil, and the panther’s long-suffering expression. “But before we think about them, we need you to focus. Aina, Cindro, how’s it looking up there?”

“We’ve rescued the people trapped on the 58th floor,” Aina reports.

“On our way down now,” Varys confirms.

Aina continues, “There’s still some heat signatures on the roof, though. I’m approaching now, but—ugh.” Her voice cuts to static for a moment, before returning to say, “Burnish lightning won’t let me land.”

“The clouds are too thick,” Cindro agrees. There’s a rustle of feathers, and then, “Send up Galo and Spitha to clear it out for us. The others are still mid-transport.”

“Finally!” Galo cheers, and Spitha bounces in place with excitement. The arm of the firetruck whirs quietly over to latch onto their pod, starting to lift it into position.

“Don’t do anything rash,” Toshiko adds in over Remi’s snort.

“Bold of you to assume they’re capable of that,” Varys says. Adira laughs, low and rolling.

The truck loads up their pod and aims them straight upward. They poke their heads out to wave and rally the people standing by to watch, to their team’s exasperation, but their burning firefighters’ soul isn’t so easily stifled.

Galo does bite his tongue on launch, though, and Spitha takes a bit of a tumble, but they’re fine. They’re doing alright.

This is all they’ve ever wanted.

* * *

“Those aren’t Freeze Force agents, boss.”

“Yeah, looks like Burning Rescue got here first. Do we gotta stall?”

“No. They’ll come eventually. All we have to do is put on a good enough show.”

(What they don’t expect: Burning Rescue may not be as ruthless as Freeze Force, but they have teeth, too. It will be a closer thing than any of them would care to admit.)

* * *

Things start going sideways right as Galo and Spitha see off the plane with the last of the civilians. All that’s left is to put out the flames, but when they turn their attention to the fire, it starts behaving strangely.

Thick streams of Burnish flame rush past like snakes, wiggling up the side of the building. It’s not until Galo sweeps away the smoke cover with his matoi that he realizes what—or who, rather—their destination is.

From atop the higher roof, three armored figures emerge from the flames. Their black armor conceals most of their features as they stare down at Galos and Spitha, but from the way they tip their heads back to howl, he feels confident in classifying them as wolf daemons.

More importantly, it means their humans must be nearby.

The howl drops off into scattered laughter, and sure enough, three more figures in jagged black armor step out from the blaze. Their humanoid silhouette is easy to pick out against the colorful flames.

“Mad Burnish,” Remi says, voice crackling over their comms. “Most of them have already been caught, but the leader and generals are still out and about.”

“Perfect. Let’s get ‘em, Spitha,” Galo says, ignoring the various types of _no!_ and _bad!_ that the rest of their team shouts at them in reply.

As though in response to this challenge, the flames roar to life with renewed strength, coalescing into gleaming black motorbikes for the humans on the sides. The one in the middle simply sits back in a _throne_ of all things, one wolf daemon taking a step back to heel, which means they’re probably the leaders.

Two fiery serpents snap out from that massive blaze and crunch into the ground just paces from Galo, who instinctively blasts them with ice.

The flames do freeze over, but not quickly enough. The generals ride down the makeshift road on their bikes with their daemons loping alongside and simply leap over the frozen end, landing behind Galo and Spitha with a laugh.

Since Spitha’s suit isn’t quite as large as Galo’s, she manages to whip around before he does and bite down on a lever that sends a series of frozen bullets towards the Mad Burnish.

Still, the Mad Burnish are faster. A fresh wave of fire turns every bullet to mist, and the larger general blasts past with enough speed to tear the right arm off Galo’s mech with a triumphant shout. One of the daemons clips Spitha in the same breath, knocking her off-balance and crunching the barrel of her blaster between armor-reinforced fangs.

“Hey!” Galo shouts, but the other general cackles and swoops in to smash his other arm to splinters, his weapon falling to the ground among tattered shards of metal.

Spitha growls, but with both of them disarmed (literally, in Galo’s case), all they can do is stand back to back and brace themselves.

“We told you your rescue gear’d be too slow,” Toshiko grumbles, “but did you listen? No. Never! In one ear, out the other.”

“Remember, these people have evaded capture for thirty years,” Ignis says. “They’re not going to go that easy.”

“That’s what makes them worth fighting,” Spitha responds, and Galo grins in agrement.

“Well, Lucia?” he says, watching the Mad Burnish circle him, slowly closing in. “We gotta be faster, don’t we?

“I got you,” she says.

“You’re awful enablers, the lot of you,” Vincere says. And then, utterly amused, “Put the damn thing on, I wanna see this explode in our faces.”

Spitha chortles. She picks up the forgotten matoi on the ground and tosses it to Galo like a stick, letting its automatic docking system click into place on top of his gear.

Its siren wails once, twice, and then erupts into a vortex of freezing air that shoves the Mad Burnish out of their circling. In seconds, the Matoi Tech replaces their rescue gear with a lighter set, though as the whirlwind dies down, Galo complains, “Wait, already? I didn’t have time to introduce it, Lucia!”

“You wanted speed, didn’t you?” she responds cheekily.

“I think we timed it perfectly,” Vincere agrees.

Cindro’s voice cuts in with, “Nobody could’ve heard you over the wind anyway, but maybe fine-tune this, uh, whatever this is, later. Maybe focus on fighting for now.”

He’s right; the generals appear to have run out of patience. The larger, two-horned one makes a gesture that calls a set of fiery whips to lash at the firefighters, but Galo and Spitha easily evade the attacks with their newfound speed.

It does come with a few risks, though, namely that when they split around one of the flames, they accidentally stray too far from each other too quickly, causing them to stumble. The distance pulls at their bond like someone trying to crack open their ribcages with a chainsaw until they draw together again.

“Ow, ow, ow, that was bad.” Galo clutches at his chest, and then hurriedly ducks away from another stream of fire.

“Let’s not do that again,” Spitha says, sounding faintly winded. “And watch out!”

The other general swoops in again, but Galo’s prepared this time and manages to jam his staff into the motorbike’s wheel. They’re not real bikes, being more flame than metal, but they’re solid enough to snag on a blast of ice and flip into the air, its rider shouting in alarm.

“Meis!” the daemon cries, and a wall of flame sweeps up to shield them from Spitha’s next string of ice bullets.

By the time the steam clears, the general is getting back to his feet and swearing under his breath. His daemon presses up next to him, the armored wolf pulling her lips back in a vicious snarl.

Spitha rushes towards them, eager to press their advantage while Galo provides cover fire against the other Mad Burnish with the machine gun end of his staff.

The daemon’s eyes flash before suddenly completely vanishing within a wash a blue flames.

The burst of heat alone does little to deter Spitha, but what emerges from the blaze is not lupine at all. Instead, a massive golden eagle slams a set of armored talons against Spitha’s Matoi Tech, gouging superheated scars into the metal plates before wheeling back to her human’s side with a triumphant screech.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Galo says, as Spitha stares at the daemon with undisguised shock.

Over the comms, someone sighs. Soleil says, “They’re _Burnish_ , you two.”

Right. Galo and Spitha had forgotten, in the heat of the moment, that the most unsettling thing about Burnish is… well. Their unsettling.

The moment someone awakens as Burnish, their daemons regain the ability to shapeshift, like a child. Except they’re still fully grown. It’s weird, and unnerving, and nobody knows why it happens.

But like everything else about Burnish, the Mad Burnish revel in it.

Fire crackles, and the larger general’s daemon flickers as well. Her black armor remains, simply shifting with a blaze of orange, but it’s clear to see the change from a wolf to polar bear, claws digging into the ground as she gallops towards them at full speed.

Galo and Spitha manage to shake off the shock in time to dodge and fire at the passing vehicle, ruining a wheel and forcing the general to abandon the ride quickly, rather than taking a tumble like Meis had.

“Bit of an amateur, huh?” the unnamed general says.

“Not at all,” Galo replies cheerfully, and Spitha fires a chain of shots directly into the polar bear’s back.

The daemon barely has a chance to yelp before the ice entombs her, and just like that, her human seizes, freezes solid in a very similar block of ice, and falls over.

The block splits on impact, but Galo is on him in an instant, freezing his arms, ankles, and throat. “One pair down!” he reports.

“Geuira, Fulmine!” Meis shouts, lunging toward his fellow Mad Burnish, but that instinctive reaction costs him. His daemon isn’t anywhere near the bulky target that the bear was, being agile enough to dodge Spitha as an eagle, but for once the human’s line of travel is predictable enough to nail him right in the head.

The daemon shrieks, freezes, and drops right on top of her frozen human. Incapacitating them is a breeze from there.

Which just leaves the leaders, who are watching from that fiery throne. The human even has a hand on the chin, as though bored by the proceedings below.

That indifference annoys Galo, and Spitha reflects it with bared teeth. “That’s your generals down,” he shouts at them. “It’s your turn now. Get off your high horse and fight us!”

“Huh,” Adira says, as the last black armored figures finally stand up. “That wasn’t half bad. When are the rest of us gonna get fancy new toys, Lucia?”

“When you decide to stop being cowards and start helping out with testing,” she replies cheerfully.

The Mad Burnish leaders slam down, nearly smashing the Matoi Tech on impact, but Galo manages to scoot back just in time to avoid the blazing motorbike. Instead of pursuing the firefighters, though, the wolf daemon stands perfectly still as the human wheels around in tauntingly pointless circles.

Realizing that they’re not being taken seriously, Galo frowns. “Don’t look down on us,” he shouts, twisting the staff in his hands and firing another icy barrage.

Immediately, the bike rears up. In a maneuver impossible on any real vehicle (and Galo would know), it turns on a dime to deflect the ice with its front wheel before rushing forward, flames roaring red-gold and purple, the daemon somehow keeping pace with the supernaturally speedy bike.

Galo’s not one to dodge, even though he’s dangerously close to the edge of the roof, so he digs his heels in and stabs forward with the staff’s freezing blasts.

It doesn’t do much to the bike, but in the ensuing steam Spitha manages to slide under the charging daemon and land a shot at her underbelly. It hits armor and doesn’t freeze over, but the wolf’s momentum halts to whip around and bite at Spitha’s shoulder in retaliation.

This forces the rider to stay close, turning on the daemon holding up his own, unable to engage in a hit-and-run. With the bike’s mobility nullified, Galo ignores the slight twinge of a glancing blow brush his shoulder and closes the gap between him and the bike, crunching its headlights under a foot as he takes aim at the rider.

The bike unexpectedly collapses under his weight, and Galo yelps as his shot goes wide, preoccupied with not falling face first into the bike-turned-wildfire. The rider pulls a glistening blade from the resulting blaze with a flourish, immediately going for a swing that nearly takes off Galo’s arm.

Galo only loses small piece of the Matoi’s shoulder when he parries—though the broken edge continues to melt a little before hardening, and _damn_ that fire sword must be off the charts if it can melt through the heat-resistant metal so quickly. He yanks the ripcord on his staff, turning it into a whirring blade of his own just in time to block an overhead slash.

The Mad Burnish turns the blow into a feint, redirecting Galo’s force upward before going low, blade curling unnaturally around to snap at his feet like a whip. Galo just barely avoids tripping over it and retaliates, his weapon slamming against the flaming blade with a metallic clang.

Sparks and steam hiss into the air as the opposing elements struggle the conquer each other. In this momentary stalemate, Galo spares a glance to Spitha’s standoff with the wolf. She glances back, twists around, and fires a round of shots to try forcing the clash in Galo’s favor.

The other daemon intervenes in a flash, burning the blasts before they can reach her human. The jagged lines of her armor make her hard to read until she crouches low, warning. From her paws rises a huge fiery snake that lurches through the air and slams into the Mad Burnish’s blade, shoving it forward enough to break the stalemate and force Galo several paces back.

A rain of arrows follows him, but Galo protects himself with a quick spin of the blade, scattering the attack to harmless embers.

“Having fun burning down people’s homes?” he jabs, shattering the last of the barrage. The bow in his opponent’s hand melts away, reforming into a snake so large it swallows up his daemon, and Galo points the gun end of his weapon at him in preparation.

“It’s not about fun,” comes a distorted response, and the snake lunges.

Galo shoots ice into its maw, peeling the flames back until the daemon emerges mid-leap, ice melting as quickly as it hits the black armor. It lands on the Matoi with fangs braced to crack the mech open, but Spitha tackles her at full speed, sending them both sprawling across the roof, rolling over each other in an attempt to end on top—

And over the edge, _fuck_ , Galo has barely a moment to gag on the distance suddenly ripping between them when a blast of fire comes up out of nowhere and slams Spitha back onto the roof. It fades quickly to reveal the wolf daemon, black armor glistening, pinning Spitha to the ground.

“Spitha!” Galo shouts, relieved and tense all at once.

“I’m fine,” Spitha says, but both of them are very, _very_ aware of how close all those sharp edges are to her exposed neck right now.

“Vakma,” the Burnish leader says, faintly out of breath. He has his sword pointed at Galo, and it’s not shaking, but Galo had seen the abortive movement towards the daemons in that split second of panic, a step that paralleled his own. There’s no way the guy isn’t at least a little shaken by the close call.

Unless, wait, his daemon could’ve just shifted into something that can fly. It probably wasn’t that close of a call. Never mind.

“Burnish don’t kill without reason,” the currently-a-wolf daemon says, like a mantra.

“Sure, and that’s why you guys go around setting fires everywhere,” Spitha mocks, causing the other daemon to fixate on her with eyes narrowed. She glares right back. “There are better ways to go about that, you know.”

“For you, perhaps,” the human says, “but we’re Burnish. We burn to live.”

“Your flames destroy things,” Galo declares, heart pounding along the whisper of _play along, play along_ from Spitha. “My burning firefighter’s soul will put them out!”

“Your what?” the human says.

“Idiot,” Lucia’s voice deadpans, and for a moment Galo thinks that’s just Lucia on the comms, but the wolf daemon suddenly whirls around to sink her claws into the little floating lighthouse-shaped beacon that snuck up behind her. She doesn’t manage to destroy it before it flashed red and blue light directly in her eyes, though.

“Gotcha!” Spitha yells, lurching to her feet and darting back to Galo’s side as he fires his hand blaster.

The last members of Mad Burnish, reeling from the distraction, only manage to deflect _most_ of it. The human flips away with the sound of something shattering, but nevertheless sends a streak of fire to whip against the Matoi Tech. Galo guards against it, feeling the blows slam into the mech’s shoulders.

When the leaders straighten, however, the wolf pacing to her human’s side in silence, Galo realizes that he’d managed to break off part of the human’s helmet, exposing half of his face and the curve of blond hair framing his head.

And, okay, there’s no way this guy has been on the run and leading the Mad Burnish for thirty years. “You can’t be older than I am!” Galo exclaims.

“Yeah, we thought y—Galo!”

Spitha’s warning comes just an instant too late; something crackles too close to his ear, and he turns just in time to see twin daggers explode the arms off the Matoi.

The wolf daemon exhales flame and it curls into her human’s hand like a whip, fluid. It bites like steel when it hits, though, lashing forward to rip another chunk off Galo’s mech as though it were paper, targeting joints and clear lines of weakness. A few strike Spitha, too, pulling her armor apart until they’re both on the ground with nothing left.

“Stay out of our way,” says the human leader, stalking forward as Galo pulls back. His fingers tighten on the edge of the roof, and he wonders if the leader can feel the building tremble, ever so slightly, through all that armor. Probably not. “You have nothing left to protect you. You’ve lost.”

“Almost there,” Remi murmurs.

“Like we said, Burnish don’t kill without reason.” The whip hardens into a sword, pointed directly between Galo’s eyes.

Galo and Spitha aren’t much for lying, sure, but they can put up a facade when the situation calls for it, and this situation certainly does.

“Don’t get cocky, you firebug bastards,” Galo says. He grins against the heat drifting lazily, purposefully, off the blade. The bud in his ear is warm and filled with the static of people and daemons hurrying into position. “Did you forget already?”

The point of the blade dips, ever so slightly. Galo takes this as an invitation to pause dramatically before he continues.

“We’re Burning Rescue. A _rescue team_.”

The slam of ice against superheated metal punctuates his statement, and steam billows off the sword that had just barely protected the wolf daemon in time.

Remi’s rescue gear hauls itself over the opposite edge of the roof, mongoose daemon curled around his neck within it as he keeps firing at the Mad Burnish, who turns to face this new threat with a whirlwind of heat. The sword shimmers, bending back into a whip or a bow, maybe, to make up for the range.

Before he can even begin to retaliate, however, Varys and Adira rise up from behind Galo, the black bear in her sturdy armor immediately reaching for the wolf, who unfortunately had been watching her human’s back.

She barks out, “Behind!” They dodge the set of claws that come at them, with daemon jumping from Adira’s armored back to Varys’, and the human simply leaping up the extended arm of Varys’ tech like a gymnast.

Daemon and human move in sync, jumping high in preparation to twist and come crashing down blade- and fang- first with gravity’s weight behind the attack. But they hadn’t thought to look up above them, and from the smoke emerges the nose of a red plane with a window rolled down. A black kite shoots out of it to dive-bomb the human hard enough to crack the black armor and mess up his trajectory before rushing back through the window.

The wolf growls as they fall, and a blanket of flame seems to catch them both and pull them close to each other. They land lightly, rolling to their feet right onto the Matoi Tech’s staff.

It comes to life immediately, handle clicking down to hook onto the human’s shoulder, a clear blue light flaring out from the end. They pause for a moment, confused and probably struggling to keep up with all the new players entering the battlefield, which means Spitha has enough time to shout, “Now!”

The broken chunks of the Matoi Tech shimmer, magnetized, and rush towards their target. The Burnish manage to kick back the first couple of pieces, but they keep coming back from all different angles—which is their fault for shredding and scattering the pieces so thoroughly, really—until the whole suit has latched into place around him and his daemon, trapping them in a metal cocoon.

With a hiss of freezing air, the remnants of the Matoi Tech extinguish every flame on the roof, destroying all of the Burnish constructs and cutting off their most powerful resource.

A giddy sort of joy jumps through Galo, and he can’t help but grin as he approaches the now still and half-frozen Mad Burnish, whose gaze is directed towards the ground. His daemon isn’t even in view, swallowed up by the Matoi Tech.

“Pretty impressive, isn’t it?” Spitha says, leaning into Galo’s legs with satisfaction. “Lucia and Vinny got their hands on a rapid cooling thing.”

“From where,” Soleil says, to a shameless cackle from Lucia.

A sharp kick knocks open the rapid cooling system, and Galo seals off the Mad Burnish leaders’ limbs with a quick burst of shots before they can gather any fire. Come to think of it… He glances off to the side, mildly surprised to see the generals still right where he left them. Huh.

“Hm,” the wolf daemon says, looking down at her new ice shackles. Without the armor, she looks just like a regular grey wolf.

“Try anything, and we’ll freeze you solid,” Remi warns. “We know you need fire to shift, and if we see anything like that…”

“You’ve made your point.” The daemon flashes her fangs at him and Toshiko for a moment before turning back to Galo and the dalmation wagging her tail at his side. “Spitha and… Galo, was it?”

Galo straightens. “That’s right! Galo Thymos and Spitha, the firefighters with a burning soul. We’re the ones to take you down, Mad Burnish!”

The wolf looks to her human, who narrows his eyes at Galo. Despite being surrounded and iced, Galo notices a spark of _fight_ in that gaze, as though the battle had just begun rather than just concluded.

“It’s not ‘Mad Burnish’, it’s Lio,” he says, after a moment. “Lio Fotia and Envakma.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Galo: Spitha, dalmation  
> Lucia: Vincere, mouse  
> Ignis: Soleil, panther  
> Aina: Cindro, black kite  
> Remi: Toshiko, mongoose  
> Varys: Adira, black bear  
> Meis: Cielo, ???  
> Gueira: Fulmine, ???  
> Lio: Envakma, ???


	2. Chapter 2

Let it be known that Lio loves his generals like family. Their year or so of traveling together, syncing up their flames to watch the colors dance into the night, has forged their bond of trust so deeply that Envakma actively seeks them out when she feels like Lio is not attending to his own wellbeing enough.

So yes, he loves them with every inch of his being, soul and flame and all.

But they’re still dumbasses with zero self-restraint.

Lio pretends to watch the rest of the firefighters scold Galo his recklessness and absolutely does not let himself look towards where his generals lay unconscious on the ground. Envakma, who isn’t quite as directly in everyone’s line of sight, lowers her head to conceal the way her gaze flickers over to them.

They’d been frozen solid for only a moment or so, which means they won’t be unconscious for much longer. Hopefully, the Freeze Force will have arrived and shuffled them all into Burnish jail by then, because otherwise things might get a little… messy.

But Lio feels his daemon flick her tail at his calf, a calm reassurance trickling through their bond. _Still sleeping_ , is the impression he gets. _Don’t worry._

A faint rumble reaches their ears, and this time, Envakma and Lio exchange a knowing glance. Freeze Force tanks have a peculiar sound, tinnier than any passing plane and thinner than rolling thunder.

“Oh, great, it’s them,” Spitha grumbles, close enough for Envakma to hear even as the vehicles descend to the rooftop.

Lio stomps down the instinct to flare up and get away. This is part of their plan, he reminds himself. And even if it wasn’t, he’d never leave the others behind.

All he does is lean away from the looming colonels when they come too close for comfort—Vulcan and Uboj, one of the Burning Rescue members calls them. The Mad Burnish have brushed paths with them before, but they’ve never had a direct confrontation until now. Up close, that fully armored, great dane-sized daemon looks all the more threatening.

“We’ll be taking the Mad Burnish,” Vulcan announces, and promptly smashes through the ice to lock Lio’s wrists and ankles with freezing rings. A collar equivalent is shoved onto Envakma’s neck with enough force to make her choke, but neither of them flinch.

They’ve endured worse. Actually from what they know of the colonels’ reputation, all this shoving around is practically gentle.

Lio ignores the itch of ice trying and failing to make much of a dent in his internal temperature and dutifully allows himself to be marched toward one of the flying tanks. He tunes out whatever the colonel is saying about jurisdiction and focuses on his restraints.

It looks more advanced than before. More streamlined, certainly, but whether or not the flame suppression system actually improved at all is questionable.

Envakma presses into his side as they shuffle along, keeping an eye out as Lio turns his attention inward. The flames are a part of them, wrapped around their cores and threaded through their veins, and it takes but a thought to start pooling the heat in his palms.

He doesn’t do anything with that heat yet, of course. Tipping his hand this early won’t help his people. He’s not poking at it yet, just _thinking_ about poking it. Checking whether or not it can detect him gathering and dispersing different levels of heat. It’s unlikely, with how subtle they can be, but possible.

The restraints don’t react at all. So that’s one concerning possibility dismissed.

Envakma stops suddenly, causing Lio stop as well and blink out of his thoughts. She’s looking back at—oh.

Vulcan is holding Galo up by the throat while Spitha bristles, hackles raised. Uboj’s presence stops the dalmation from interfering, but it’s clear that the situation is heartbeats from escalating to irksome levels.

Bloodthirsty as the colonels are, they’re far more likely to let the Burning Rescue officers off with a light slap on the wrist and vent the full extent of their frustrations on the captured Burnish later.

That’s unacceptable. Better to have them take it out on Lio and Envakma, who can handle it, before then.

Lio checks where their generals are (restrained, being carried into a tank by one of the faceless grunts, but still well within the splash radius of Vulcan and Uboj’s infamous rage) and withholds a sigh. He and Envakma straighten, affecting a disinterested mask, prepared to cut into Vulcan’s rant about the legality of Galo and Spitha’s fight and draw the attention to them.

Someone else speaks first, though. “Wait,” says one of the Burning Rescue members. He’s not one of those who helped corner Lio and Envakma, but the sharp eyes of his panther daemon make it clear that he’s a leader here. Wildcat daemons always are. “We’re authorized to handle Burnish in cases of emergency, colonel. This incident qualifies.”

Uboj sneers. “We’ll be the ones to decide that.”

“And what have you decided?” the panther challenges, stepping closer with predatory grace.

Lio takes a bit of satisfaction from Uboj’s tail lowering, even if the Freeze Force armor hides the rest of her body language. Just that slight movement makes it clear that Vulcan will fold, and sure enough, he does, dropping Galo to the floor.

“Can’t take a joke,” Vulcan says, surly. Despite being so effectively defused, he’s obviously still itching for a fight, so Lio returns to his original plan of drawing the ire instead of letting it hurt anyone else.

“Wasting time on internal power struggles? How droll,” Lio drawls, and just as he’d hoped, Vulcan and Uboj turn on him with murderous eyes. Envakma keeps her head high. “Public officials are so petty.”

He has more, but the punch comes in a blur of dark grey and slams him into the ground, knocking the breath from his lungs. An ensuing kick punts him into the air, but not overly far from Uboj knocking Envakma over, not until Vulcan tosses him to a different underling and Envakma is forced to scramble up and follow, their bond pulling her along.

She ignores the vicious nip Uboj lands on her flank as she races into the Freeze Force vehicle, positioning herself so that Lio lands on top of her when he’s thrown in like a sack of produce.

A slight grunt escapes him as he lands, but her warm fur is infinitely better than the hard floor, and she helps him stand up again before one of the four human agents waiting inside grabs his arm and shoves him into a seat. Envakma lays down on top of his feet, soundlessly flashing her teeth as one of agents’ armored daemons, a kangaroo, squints at her. The others, three canines of varying sizes, look like they’d love to tear her to pieces.

They remain at their posts, though, unmoving. Lio steals a quick glance around.

No Gueira and Fulmine or Meis and Cielo, unfortunately. It makes sense that they’d transport them all in separate vehicles, but they can only hope that Vulcan and Uboj are too large and self-important to travel with any of them, if not Lio and Envakma.

The door closes with a hiss, blocking out their last glimpse of sunlight and a pensive panther. The flying tank whirrs around them, engine buzzing to life before the whole vehicle shifts upward.

Lio tenses, and Envakma presses closer. She’s laying on top of his feet for a reason, even though the freezing ring on his ankles makes it far from comfortable. Having his daemon so close makes it a little easier let go of the world and cradle that flame within him, its power burbling undetected below the surface of his skin.

The fight did bang them up a little, but for Burnish of their calibre, it’s easy to curl flames around bruised and damaged tissue and let the heat lick away the pain.

They don’t show any sign of relief, outwardly. Playing the beaten dog is simple enough, with Lioand Envakma refusing to look at the other daemons, instead staring listlessly at her paws as their internal fire keeps them warm.

It’s a tense ride, but at least they’re not sitting in the dark. The edges of the panels in the walls glow faintly, no doubt pumping anti-Burnish coolant through the whole vehicle, and lines of lights on the floor cast a cool light on everything. Envakma lays her head down on top of part of it, squinting through the illumination.

Still, the situation sparks a few memories Lio would rather not dwell on. A cool enclosure, their limbs restrained, ice constantly gnawing at their skin, the silent guards watching them emotionlessly, their flame quietly soothing as voices shout _wait, this isn’t what we—_

Envakma shifts against his legs, knocking him off that train of thought under the guise of getting more comfortable. She’d like to be a cat right now, something that can sit on his lap and knead and purr until he anchors himself in the here and now, but they both know that either the rings or the agents will freeze them at the first hint of a spark.

Wolf isn’t the worst form to be in, though. The weight is comforting, and he concentrates on nothing but his daemon, breathing slow, heart beating out a steady rhythm.

Eventually, after what feels like an eternity but was more likely just a few hours of monotonous travel, the steady rumbling throughout the cabin turns into a descent. There’s a short drop as the tank hits the ground, nearly jarring everyone out of their seats, and then a bit more moving before it finally comes to a complete halt.

Together, the agents all stand up. Their gun have been trained on Lio and Envakma for the whole ride, but now they’re more alert and awake.

Lio sends them the flattest look he can muster as the door opens, allowing a rush of cold air into the vehicle. It’s far from enough to make them shiver, though Envakma makes a show of flattening her ears and pulling away from the entrance, as though affronted.

Another Freeze Force agent approaches from the outside, the shape of his reindeer daemon silhouetted beside him, and looks at Lio and Envakma before nodding. The other agents prod them with guns until they obediently stand and shuffle out, easily shrugging off the sudden drop in temperature outside.

The reindeer daemon snorts derisively at Envakma as they emerge, shaking an impressive rack of antlers. Envakma ignores them, preoccupied with looking around at the sprawling lake stretching into snowy mountaintops and sheer cliffs in the distance.

They’re standing on a landing pad attached to a very large, very fortified-looking cube-shaped building of dark metal. Dirty frost sits on nearly half of its exposed surface, which would make reckless running a rather treacherous activity.

Glancing over his shoulder, Lio spots Gueira and Fulmine a couple paces behind them, and Meis and Cielo emerging from a third vehicle even further back. Everyone’s being funneled here, then.

Interesting. Putting all the captured Burnish in a frozen prison in the middle of a freezing lake surrounded by white-capped mountains certainly explains why nobody’s ever escaped from the Foresight Foundation’s strongholds before. But it also gives quite a bit away; there are only so many places like this within the proximity of Promepolis, even accounting for the surprising speed of Freeze Force’s vehicles.

Considering the Great World Burn, actually, there’s a good chance this whole place has been artificially constructed. The Foresight Foundation has a lot of money to waste on prejudice.

That means that while it’s impossible to tell _exactly_ where they are right now, especially once they’re ushered inside, Lio is confident they can find and return here at will if an emergency demands it.

Hopefully they won’t need to, but it’s a good thing to be aware of, just in case. What kind of leader would they be if they didn’t plan for contingencies, after all?

The people here must really have confidence in the prison’s internal defenses, because instead of everyone getting a five guard escort, most of the agents peel off until it’s just three human-daemon pairs in front, three behind, and the last embers of Mad Burnish sandwiched in the middle.

Lio can tell that Gueira is about two beats from exploding, but all of them look unharmed, thankfully. Envakma swings her tail wide as they trudge through the unwelcoming halls, the tip tapping Fulmine’s polar bear fur every now and then to remind them that they’re all together and okay.

And then they’re shown the cell, a room with cooling panels not dissimilar to the Freeze Force transporters, with over a dozen emaciated-looking people and daemons in freezing rings.

Immediately, Lio’s eyes catch on the few children huddled up against each other on the side, thin and nearly swallowed up by the freezing ring keeping their arms locked halfway up their upper arms. Pressed up against their thin gowns are a little ragged-looking baby duckling and the tiniest little kitten and—

_—they’re our children, you can’t just bloody take them—_

The nozzle of a gun roughly forces Lio in, causing him to stumble to his knees. Envakma keeps to his side, body language perfectly calm despite the stormy look in her eyes, and Lio barely has a chance to put his thoughts back in order before Gueira and Meis are shoved in on top of him, nearly planting his face on the floor before Envakma catches him with a shoulder.

She quickly backs away to avoid being touched when Lio shrugs them all off, though, and watches as he whirls around to the agents at the door, “Wait!”

But the door slides down, shutting them out completely. Lio doesn’t know if he could have said anything else, anyway.

“Lio,” Envakma says, circling around to put her paws on his lap. “It’s okay, Lio.”

Gueira, who had impressively kept a cap on his temper until now, shouts, “No, it’s not! He said to wait, damn it!” He stomps his foot and, seemingly on instinct, summons a rush of flame from his hands.

The blessed heat lasts scarcely a second before the freezing rings beep and turn him to ice. Fulmine stiffens, frost locking onto her form too until Gueira topples over and shatters it onto the ground. He groans, struggling to sit up until Fulmine lumbers over to help him with only a slightly disgruntled expression.

“Wow,” says Cielo, hopping up onto Meis’ shoulder. She’d been knocked off her perch on his freezing ring when they were pushed in, but now preens her feathers back in order as she side-eyes Gueira. “That really showed them, good job.”

An thin old man, slumped against the wall in defeat with a motionless fox daemon, glances up at them. “It’s impossible to break through,” he says, indicating the rings. “You’ll only freeze yourself solid.”

Lio closes his eyes for a moment, breathes, and then opens them again to look his daemon in the eye. “I know. Vakma? It’s fine.”

“If you say so.” She lets her paws slide off his lap, but still leans into him, grounding.

“Boss,” Meis calls. He’s already stepped over to the back of the room, where a few people are laying down.

“It’s looking bad,” Cielo adds quietly as their leaders walk over for a closer look. “Can you…?”

Lio crouches beside them, frowning. These people aren’t dead yet, he can still see their daemons huddled up in varying depths of misery.

They’re not doing well, though. He can tell they’re in dire need of food and flames and so many other things, honestly. As things are right now, he can’t do anything for them. A part of him wants to kick himself for not putting this plan into motion sooner.

Envakma butts her head against Lio, a wordless _don’t_ passing through them, before she turns back to the closest daemon, a canary with a thick band around his neck. He’s lying on top of a woman Lio recognizes, actually. Even with half her head wrapped in bandages, he remembers seeing her before.

Mad Burnish, little more than a gang, spiriting away a newly awoken Burnish. Lio and Envakma trailing after their tracks, so tired, so desperate, jumping in to chase off the Freeze Force but failing to save anyone but the then-leaders.

“Thyma?” Lio whispers. “Isaac?”

She opens her eyes. Her canary stirs from his place on her stomach, trembling faintly as Envakma carefully nuzzles him, trying to press some warmth into his frostbitten wings. The gown she wears is thin, but the barrier is enough that Envakma can rest his head on her and bury Isaac in a bundle of warm fur without fearing direct touch.

The heat seems to help, and Thyma blinks up at Lio as she wakes up a little more. “Y-you’re… why?”

Lio wants to grab her hands, but his are locked in a freeze ring and hers aren’t.

Aren’t locked, and… aren’t, period. Bandages wrap around her arms from the shoulder down, but they go limp below the elbow. Empty. Hints of grey stain the once-white bandages.

It’s worse than they’d thought.

“We’re getting you out of here,” Lio says, fiercely.

She looks like she wants to cry, but doesn’t have the energy. “We didn’t do anything. We didn’t, we didn’t do anything. We’re not…”

Not Mad Burnish, but Burnish all the same. That’s the only thing the Foundation cares about.

“You’re going to be okay,” Lio says. He refuses any other option.

The old man from before interjects, “How?” He looks like an errant breeze might turn him to ashes, and the way he hunches around his quiet fox daemon doesn’t help. “You three were our last hope, and now you’re here, too.”

Lio doesn’t respond for a moment. Then, with resolution, “Keep burning.” He lifts his head, taking in the array of defeated faces before him, all those flames reduced to embers. He is the leader of Mad Burnish, and all these people are his to protect. “We won’t go out yet, and we won’t let any of you go out either. Meis?”

“Boss?”

“Help me sit Thyma up. Gueira, Fulmine, keep the kids warm. Cielo, take Vakma’s place, we need to test something out and I don’t want anyone to be caught in the radius.”

“You got it.”

It’s as simple as this: Lio and Envakma have fire. Everyone has hearths.

All they have to do is burn.

* * *

Galo should be asleep. He and Spitha have to get up early in the morning to receive a medal of honor from Kray himself for finally dealing the last fatal blow to the Mad Burnish, and it wouldn’t do to be sleep-deprived through such an important ceremony.

And yet.

In the middle of the night, Spitha rolls over from beside him to on top of him, spotted muzzle pulled in a slight frown.

“Galo?”

She knows what he’s been mulling over. The battle had been hard and fast, but it’s hard to forget the fact that his daemon had rolled off a rooftop and he had not followed.

The Mad Burnish leader’s daemon—he can’t remember their names, they’re both awful with names—had pulled her back over the edge. She didn’t have to, but she did, and she did not do anything but loom menacingly over Spitha afterwards.

 _Burnish don’t kill without reason,_ they’d said.

But do actively they save lives without reason, too?

It doesn’t fit into what they know about the Mad Burnish. Something doesn’t feel right, but they can’t tell what it is, or why, or how.

Spitha sighs, laying her head on his chest.

“Maybe some pizza will solve this,” he says.

“Nobody’s open at two in the morning.”

“No, I mean tomorrow! After the ceremony. We can go with the whole team.”

At this, Spitha cocks her head to the side with interest. “Huh,” she says. “Sure, why not? Remi and Toshiko like to say things that sound smart, maybe we can ask them what they think about it.”

“They’ll just call us thick-headed, though.”

“But it would make us feel better.”

Galo smiles despite himself and runs his fingers through her fur, massaging around her ears. “It would.”

Still, sleep eludes them. They stare into the darkness until dawn begins to trickle in again.

* * *

“I’m just saying, couldn’t we have taken a few less hits? I bet they were accounting for their allies’ position when they opened fire.”

“We can’t be sure of that, Vakma.”

She huffs at him, which causes the tiny duckling on her head to squeak in delight as she bobs up and down.

They’re not _really_ debating whether or not they would’ve allowed anti-Burnish quality bullets hit a normal person, because the answer is no, because they’d die. But it makes the kids giggle from where their backs are pressed into Envakma’s side, and spreads a bit of warmth and morale through the cold cell.

It also distracts them from worrying about Meis and Cielo, who were dragged out earlier. Time is hard to keep track of, but it feels like it’s been the better part of an hour. According to the others, these— _sessions_ —can be anything up to three hours long. Recently, they’ve been skewing towards the shorter side, but that might be because these Burnish are too burnt out and might not last through longer ones.

Meis and Cielo are fresh, though. Lio and Envakma had their turn first, enduring mostly surface tests and freezing and coerced flame generation and an injection that briefly made their hearts leap to their throats when their fire dimmed, but in the end it wasn’t anything they couldn’t overcome. Gueira and Fulmine had been put through something similar afterwards.

And now Meis and Cielo.

“You’re sitting on my tail,” Envakma tells Fulmine, who rolls her eyes and does not move her massive polar bear body from where she’s planted it right next to the wolf daemon. There are too many others huddling into her fur for her to even consider getting up.

“I’m not,” she says.

“Then who is?”

“Me!” says a ferret daemon, doing exactly that. His human cracks a tiny smile as she watches him do a little wiggle. “You are very warm.”

The duckling scoots off Envakma’s head to sit between her paws, letting her arch her neck back in a mock attempt to nudge the daemon off her tail. “There are better places to sit,” she says.

“I like it here, though!”

“Can’t argue against that,” Fulmine says, and grins when Envakma clicks her teeth in a pretend threat. “You know I’m right.”

Before she can respond, the door clicks. Most of the other Burnish flinch guiltily at the sound, as though letting themselves look up and smile for once is a crime.

Lio and Envakma don’t back away, though. Neither do Gueira and Fulmine, who wait with baited breath until the guards at the door push Meis and Cielo stumbling in, the door sliding shut once more behind them.

“Ugh,” Cielo says, fluttering to the floor. “That sucked. And I don’t want to be an eagle anymore.” She tugs at the cold collar around her neck.

“We told you to be careful with what forms you chose,” Envakma says, but she extends a paw to pull Cielo closer anyway, lapping at her ruffled feathers to smooth them over. Lio gestures for Meis to join them, and the general sits down between him and Gueira.

“Did they hurt you?” Gueira asks, brows furrowed. “I’ll fuck ‘em up good if they did, I swear.”

Meis snorts. “They didn’t, but how about we do that anyway? It was pretty much the same as what you guys said.” He frowns. “But I get the feeling that they were just finding a baseline for us. It’ll be getting worse soon, boss.”

“Yeah.” Lio knows it will. It always does. “Sorry. It won’t be much longer.”

Meis flashes him a reassuring smirk, though it’s somewhat hampered by a bit of exhaustion in his eyes. “No worries, boss. We can hold out for as long as it takes, right, Cielo?”

“Yeah, ‘course.” Cielo squirms away from Envakma’s tongue, batting at her muzzle with a gentle wing until she lets go, though careful not to disturb the other daemons and people huddled up against the large wolf. “But I’m allowed to complain about it, aren’t I?”

Gueira huffs in agreement. “You sure are, Cielo. This is a shitty box to be in.”

Lio purses his lips, nodding once. This whole place is a giant freezer, which isn’t much more than an inconvenience for healthy Burnish, but all of the others here have been worn down by repeated experiments.

They’ve already shared in hushed voices about the ways their flames have been manipulated against their will: suffocated in ice, drawn out in machines, bonds stretched and bodies torn, so much worse than the single session Lio and Envakma have experienced in this particular stronghold.

Lio is furious, yes. But Envakma never growls, not once pinning back her ears or raising her hackles. Not with so many terrified daemons huddling close to her for warmth.

They are the protector of these people, now, and refuse to frighten them.

Fulmine leans over, letting Cielo climb up her side and settle into her thick fur like a nest, wings draping over other similarly comfortable daemons. “Get some rest, you two,” the polar bear says. And then, lower, “We have a big day tomorrow.”

“How do we even know when it’s tomorrow?” Cielo asks, half muffled by Fulmine’s fur. “Meals don’t even come regularly.” Which is why the six of them, stronger and newer, have been yielding their portion of the rations to the others. They still have the strength to stand and run, but everyone else needs to build that back up.

Lio fingers the edge of his sleeve. “The next time they open the door,” he says, because they can’t put it off much longer. Not if they want to maintain an adequate power level. “Meis, Cielo, did your route match up with ours?”

The two of them straighten to attention. “It sure did, boss,” Meis says.

“Good. Be ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Galo: Spitha, dalmation  
> Lucia: Vincere, mouse  
> Ignis: Soleil, panther  
> Aina: Cindro, black kite  
> Remi: Toshiko, mongoose  
> Varys: Adira, black bear  
> Meis: Cielo, ???  
> Gueira: Fulmine, ???  
> Lio: Envakma, ???  
> Vulcan: Uboj, dog  
> Thyma: Isaac, ???


	3. Chapter 3

Seeing their own faces plastered across billboards alongside the governors never stops being a welcome surprise.

“We’re _famous_ now,” Galo says to Spitha, who laughs and swats a paw up towards his chest, where the medal hangs from his shirt. It’s warm to the touch, a comforting weight that reminds him of his progress and of Kray’s warm pride.

“We did do a pretty great thing,” she says.

Adira, sitting with Varys across from them, teases, “That doesn’t mean you two can get a swelled head, now. Technically, you didn’t take them down, we did.”

That remark gets a pout from them both, and Lucia snickers as she bites into her own slice of pizza. Aina says, “To be fair, they did finish off the generals and stall the leader in time for the rest of us to get there.”

“Pretty impressive for a pair of rookies,” Cindro says, and when Spitha sends him a sideways look in response, he laughs and flutters over to Aina’s other shoulder, keeping out of reach.

“We’re not rookies anymore,” Spitha protests.

“Aren’t you?” Vincere’s eyes gleam with mischief from his place by Lucia’s plate, as the only daemon unobtrusive enough to be allowed on the table. He walks a little closer to Galo and Spitha, though of course not far enough to pull at his bond with Lucia. “I don’t see anyone here less experienced than you.”

Galo frowns. “But it’s been, what, almost two years now?”

Remi readjusts his glasses with a pinky, careful not to get any grease on them. “If you’re generously including the preliminary training involved, then yes, it’s been approximately two years.”

“Shouldn’t count that, though. And even if you did, two-year-olds are still rookies at life,” Toshiko says. She crosses her paws and grins from her place on his shoulders.

“Wow,” Spitha says, trying to affect a scandalized expression but unable to summon anything but a smile, “I can’t believe you’re all just gong to bully us like this. I’m telling Soleil.”

Varys picks up another entire pizza, ignoring Aina stealing a slice out of his hands as he says, “Are you sure? You’re already on their shit list for pretty much going behind their backs to use that whole Matoi Tech thing.”

“Don’t remind me,” Lucia groans. She melts against the table, facedown. “We had to sit through an hour-long lecture about all the forms and stuff we were supposed to submit and get approved before dispatching any gear. It was so boring! We own all of our stuff, it’s a certified Fex Industries invention, so why do we need all those extra steps?”

“Not everyone is as good at it as you,” Adira says, placating. “If everyone started bringing in their own inventions, it’d be a mess.”

Vincere cocks his head to the side. “You’re right, but it would be a pretty delightful mess. Imagine if—hey, Aina, Cindro—imagine if we were allowed to adapt some of Heris and Kulpa’s work!”

Lucia brightens immediately, teasing, “Yeah, show us the forbidden secret Foundation tech!”

But Aina sighs, propping her chin on a hand. “I wish. My sister’s keeping a tight lid on it all, and it’s been forever since we got Kulpa to spill anything, either.”

“I’m sure it’s important work,” Remi says. “The latest rumors said they were working on a warp engine of some sort, right? If they manage to pull that off, it would be huge.”

“Probably pretty far off, though,” Toshiko says. “Remi, if you eat any slower, we are going to _starve_.”

Remi watches the pile of pizza absolutely vanish under Varys and Galo’s fingers. “Too late for that, I think.”

“You can always get more,” calls the owner. He’s balancing another stack of Inferno Volcano Margherita pizza on each hand, his greenfinch daemon perched atop his balding head as he comes by their table. “We have plenty of freshly made pizza just for you. ”

“You’re our heroes,” the daemon chirps, which causes Galo and Spitha to grin sheepishly. “Really, good job taking down those Mad Burnish.”

The owner nods. “They’ve been causing trouble for everyone, even civilian Burnish. It’s because of their actions that so many Burnish are discriminated against.”

“It’s a relief to know that those people can breathe a little easier now,” the daemon says. “So thank you, Burning Rescue, for your hard work! We’ll always have our doors open for you, so long as you want more pizza.”

“More!” Galo and Varys shout enthusiastically.

“Thanks,” Adira adds. “Your support means a lot to us.”

Aina laughs wryly as the empty plate is replaced with a set of Inferno Volcano Margherita pizzas. “Well, in any case, you guys are paying for your portion of this meal.”

“That’s fair,” Spitha says, watching her human promptly start devouring the stack. An ear twitches, and her gaze turns towards the distance.

“Assuming they don’t choke and die before the bill comes,” Cindro mumbles, and Aina snorts.

Galo opens his mouth, either about to inhale another pizza or to start yelling excitedly at something, when Spitha suddenly lands on his lap. He yelps, dropping the pizza slice back into the plate, but her focus is directed straight at the sky with ears perked. “Do you guys… hear that?”

“What?” Aina says, and in the momentary quiet, the whirring sound becomes more distinct.

Cindro, who has the sharpest eyes in the group, glances up. He scans the horizon for a moment, and then stiffens. “Freeze Force,” he reports, “but I don’t see any fires around…”

To their bafflement and increasing trepidation, the Freeze Force vehicles land right outside the pizza place, whipping up a whirlwind of activity from their propulsion systems before their tires hit the ground. A swarm of armored soldiers immediately charge out towards this restaurant’s front door, making it clear that they’re not here for downtime.

“I’m going to call the captains,” Vincere whispers, and dives for Lucia’s pockets.

“They might be too far to help,” Adira says, stomping on Spitha’s tail before she can get more than a step towards the commotion at the front of the store.

The dalmation daemon jumps, turning back to glare at the larger, calmer bear. “Let us go,” she snaps, unable to move. Galo’s at the brink of their bond distance, looking back in annoyance.

“Don’t be stupid,” Remi says. “We don’t have any right to interfere, not like last time. The captains bailed us out then, but Freeze Force…”

Galo interrupts with a determined, “That doesn’t mean we can just sit by and _watch_.”

“We know,” Varys says, standing. “That’s why we’re going together.”

Adira lets go of Spitha, who exchanges a startled look with Galo. Sure enough, everyone’s getting up now, and that warms something in Galo and Spitha’s chests.

Or would, if Vulcan and Uboj hadn’t just stormed in. “Listen up!” the human colonel roars, flashing shark teeth at the confused and intimidated diners. “We’re here for the Burnish, but if any of you move, we’ll count you as one of ‘em!”

“You can’t do that!” Galo shouts. He stomps over with Spitha at his side, only to be shoved back at freezer gunpoint. “There’s no emergency here, back off!”

“Oh, it’s you. But you’re right,” Uboj sneers, looming over Spitha. “There isn’t, which means you and all of Burning Rescue have no say here. But Freeze Force can!”

Spitha snarls right back, leaning into Uboj’s face. “There’s nothing here! Mad Burnish is gone.”

Galo pushes the guns away from himself, a thousand words boiling to the tip of his tongue about how this is unnecessary and disruptive to the public at large, but one of the faceless Freeze Force agents suddenly shouts, “Halt! You there, don’t move!”

The person by the pizza oven—young, terrified, little salamander daemon clinging to the top of his head—stammers, “N-no… Stay away. Stay away from us!”

“Stay calm!” the restaurant owner cries, trying to push through the crowd to reach his employee, but the Freeze Force block him off. His greenfinch daemon flits to the air, but still can’t get close enough. “It’s going to be okay, Carlos, just stay calm! S-sirs, there’s no need for all this, surely.”

But their fear is like blood in the air, the Freeze Force close ranks like hyenas.

Everything devolves at once; someone’s hand twitches on a trigger and Carlos reaches for the open blaze of the pizza oven and the orange flames twist neon pink-blue and the bullets fly and the fire roars and the salamander shifts into a porcupine through the flames, spines bristling, her cry a panicky shrill.

That first rush of heat dissipates all too quickly under a surge of ice, which first extinguishes the pizza oven and several portions of the wall before finally hitting the Burnish’s hand and cutting off his stream of flame.

Galo rushes forward as the employee falls to several icy restraints, his daemon silenced beside him, but the owner is closer and throws himself in front of the firing squad, crying out, “Wait, wait!”

“They haven’t done anything wrong,” the greenfinch calls, wings splayed in a mirror of her human’s arms. “Please, they were just making pizza.”

Vulcan, who had his firearm trained on the Burnish, abruptly swings his aim over to the owner. “Oh, so you knew? In that case, you’re under arrest too.”

“Hold it!” Aina cuts in, just as Spitha’s teeth clamp shut millimeters away from Uboj’s flank. Galo feels the rest of his team gather up around as she demands, “On what grounds?”

Uboj turns on them, lips curled. “For violating the Burnish Protection Crime Act, of course.”

“That’s not applicable here,” Toshiko says, icy calm.

“Says who?”

“Says the fact that it’s a special anti-terrorism law!” Aina shouts. Cindro spreads his five-foot wingspan on her shoulder, keen eyes pinned on Uboj, shifting his weight as though about to lunge for her eyes. People chronically underestimate people with bird damons ( _flighty_ , they say, laughing, and never once think of the phrase _death from above_ ) but unlike the greenfinch daemon, it’s hard to ignore those black talons and that predatory gaze. Aina stands tall and unwavering as she continues, “These people aren’t terrorists, they’re civilians.”

Vulcan grins. It’s not a friendly look. “You can’t prove that.”

“And you can’t either. Guilty until proven innocent.”

“Probable cause,” Uboj says, infuriatingly confident. “Besides, he definitely pulled his flames on us just now. In the middle of a shop filled with civilians, no less! That means we can definitely drag them to court and make them face justice.”

Galo, tired of the colonels looking so high and mighty, clambers onto a table. All the food’s already been knocked to the ground anyway. “That’s not justice,” he snaps, using his newfound height to be uningnorable.

Vulcan narrows his eyes, and the next thing Galo knows, there’s an armored fist in his gut, the momentum throwing him back. “Justice is what we say it is, punk.”

Varys catches Galo before he can fall, though, and Adira rears up onto her hind legs. A bear daemon on two legs is terrifying enough, even before she growls, “You go too far, colonels.”

“Take it up with the Foundation,” Uboj says haughtily, “and with our citizens.”

It sinks in, then, the way all the other diners have been silent. Their gazes aren’t searching for reassurance or comfort, but are already filled with grim satisfaction. Vague annoyance. Disgust.

Galo looks to the floor at discarded pizza, some quite far from the Freeze Force,

And grinds his teeth, as Freeze Force departs with their captives in tow.

They are not heroes, here.

* * *

The key to breaking freezing rings is understanding how they work.

Gueira had flushed fire through his whole body, strong enough to leak over his bond and warm his daemon, and the freezing rings had completely frozen them both as a result. Anyone trying to escape would instinctively raise their flames everywhere in the very same way, only to be completely quashed by the anti-Burnish coolant. That alone is enough to dissuade repeat attempts.

But they’re still just tech in the end. There is always a breaking point, a burning point, and all Lio and Envakma need to do is find a way there.

Entrusting their safety to the hands of their generals is as easy as breathing. They close their eyes, clearing the bond between them of any fire whatsoever, focusing to the exclusion of anything else around them, knowing they are protected in this vulnerability even in the heart of the Foundation’s prison, even as they are escorted step by step closer to a hell tailor-made for them.

Fire pools in his palms. He lets it out, no further than his forearm, hidden inside the freezing ring itself—a range he practiced, in the cell.

It beeps and ices over his arms. But only his arms.

The flames hum against the sting of cold and crack through it again, _just_ enough power to break free and not leak over to the rest of his body.

Again, the freezing ring activates and encases his arms in ice. Lio breaks through a little hotter this time, and it does it again. Hotter, and then cold. Burn, freeze. Burn, freeze, _burn_.

Its frantic beeping alerts the guard around them, but not fast enough; with every pulse of hot-cold, his flames break through the ice faster, reaching further, the coolant nozzles staying open to keep up with the onslaught only for fire to push through and destroy its ammunition before it can be deployed.

In seconds, the whole thing goes up in flames, and without the bite of cold it’s easy to manifest the gauntlets of his armor and _rip_ through the yielding metal with solid flame.

The guards shout in alarm, raising their guns, but Envakma’s collar falls to the ground in two halves with the same trick and her eyes flare and a ring of fire encircles the Burnish, rising into a wall to protect them from the incoming hail of ice bullets.

Lio pushes fire through their bond again, strengthening the blaze, and then together they force it outward, knocking all of the agents off their feet.

A quick blast of fire destroys Meis and Geuira’s freezing rings and frees Fulmine and Cielo from their restraints, allowing the other daemons to immediately shift back into wolf forms.

“You know where to go,” Lio says, and clenches his armored fist.

The guards scrambling back up suddenly find themselves thrown against the freezing wall, bound in place by burning restraints that smolder without incinerating, leaving the hallway’s path clear.

“Got it!” Gueira says, and the four figures charge back the way they came.

Envakma shakes herself out, and smoothly slides into the form of a clydesdale horse. “Finally,” she says, flames dancing freely through her mane. In seconds, their armor rebuilds itself around them, just in time to deflect a few blasts from a fresh set of guards running up the hall.

Lio exhales, pulling fire from within and pushing it out, and the flames follow the line of his arms when he hurls them at the incoming guards.

They slam into the freshly made wall of flame with panicked screams, no doubt overlooking the fact that none of them will sustain even a first degree burn from the impact.

“The Burnish are free,” he tells them. “We won’t let the Foundation hurt any of us anymore.”

He doesn’t have too much hope that the message will sink in, considering the slew of profanities slung at them in response, but at least he’d tried.

Sirens blare to life throughout the fortress as Lio swings himself onto Envakma’s armored back, and they stoke their flames higher.

If this prison uses heat vision, which of course they would because it’s the easiest way to keep track of Burnish, then the only thing their eyes will be drawn towards is the wildfire of Lio and Envakma as they take off at a gallop away from the cells like black nightmare, away from where their generals will be busy opening cell after cell.

Their flames thrill with eagerness, every spark shrieking with the desire to burn more, burn hotter, stronger, higher, and Lio feeds them on metal and frost and the force of their will.

Together, they retrace the route to the examination rooms. Lio’s heartbeat roars in his ears as Envakma kicks in the doors one at a time, taking in the scalpels and tables and syringes and the glittering pile of ash and Dust swept into a corner before their flames rush in to devour it all.

_This isn’t what we asked for. Give them back!_

With the rooms empty of life, everything burns. All of it, the computers, the materials, the equipment, the frost melting away from the walls as steam fills up each room and the flames wipe it clean.

They race down the row of doors while pushing back tears. For all the people they were not fast enough to save, Lio lets the flames run wild as he rasps, “From flames to ashes, and from ashes to earth.” And then, mournfully, “I’m sorry.”

Envakma has just set the last room on fire when the distinctive rumbling buzz of a Freeze Force tank echoes through the halls. They glance back the way they came to see the vehicle just barely squeezing through the hall space, tires squealing against the melted puddles on the ground.

Lio sets their grief aside, sliding off Envakma as she rears and shifts into a salamander that falls right into his hand and scampers up his arm. “Took them long enough,” he mutters, and runs straight at the accelerating vehicle.

Their fire skates off its thick outer hull, but Lio and Envakma let themselves slide under it, guiding bolts of flame up into the more vulnerable underbelly of the tank. A pipe bursts, an axle snaps, and by the time they slide free, the vehicle’s careening wildly into a wall.

If they had it their way, they’d raze the whole place to the ground, but their duties come first.

“Let’s go,” Envakma says, and they let the rooms continue burning as they run back the way they came, careful to duck around any guards hurrying past. Without the constant exuding of flames from their body, they don’t show up as brightly on heat vision cameras, and everyone will be focused on the blazing examination rooms instead.

By the time the prison realizes what’s going on, the Burnish have bundled into one of the helicopters waiting on the landing pad and taken off. Lio flies along outside, flames propelling him through the air with Envakma an albatross beside him, waiting to fight off the inevitable pursuit.

For some reason, it doesn’t come. The Freeze Force do not give chase.

(Not yet.)

* * *

Galo and Spitha head to the frozen lake like a reflex.

It’s been their haven for years. Empty, lonely, and utterly free—anytime they feel like they’re reaching a boiling point, they come here to chase each other on the ice or make a contest to see who can dig a bigger hole or just sit at the bank and _scream_ , thrilled to hear the echo of their voices rebound into the sky.

Today is not quite as easy.

Today, they feel like magma and a volcano, the shimmering high of heroism making this drop to a disappointing reality all the harsher.

“That was awful,” Spitha says, and starts scrabbling at the frozen surface of the lake. The only thing she really accomplishes is a few scratch marks and some very cold paw pads, but neither of them care.

The pizza kid’s fear—the flash of his daemon from a cheerful salamander to a terrified porcupine, quills all bristling in defense, yowling until she chokes on ice, that terror as though they were not being arrested but rather sentenced to death—they can’t shake the experience.

Galo sighs, and watches the breath curl out of his mouth. It’s cold up here, almost unbearably so, but the trek and leftover adrenaline keep him warm enough to not need a coat. “Maybe the captains will work something out. I hope.”

It’s not just that he’ll miss the pizza. It’s their duty, as rescue squad members, to save people, and they hadn’t been able to do anything this time.

An engine purrs to a stop, somewhere behind them. And then, “There you are.”

The two whirl around to see Cindro perched on Aina’s parked bike as she pulls off her helmet.

He hops onto her shoulder once she sets the helmet aside, saying, “Good heavens, you guys, that was… really fast. And really far. And you didn’t crash into a single tree.” He pauses, cocking his head to the side.

“What is this place?” Aina asks, rubbing the sides of her arms as she approaches. “You guys have to come here a lot, if you know the path so well.”

Galo shrugs, stomping a foot on the ice for the delight of startling Cindro, who squawks, “Be careful!”

“What? It’s frozen solid, Spitha and I checked.” Galo raps his heel on it a few more times to make his point. “Pretty deep, too. More than twenty feet.”

Aina raises a brow. “Really?”

Spitha nods. “Yeah, we brought a couple of trowels with us once. That was a fun afternoon. Cold, though.”

“No kidding.” Aina steps onto the ice herself, faintly wary. “A giant ice lake in the middle of nowhere. Well, that’s better than where we thought you were going.”

“Where did you think we were going?” Galo asks.

“After Freeze Force, obviously.” Cindro clicks his beak at them. “You can be pretty rash, you know.”

“Clearly not as much as we thought, if you come here to vent,” Aina adds dryly.

Spitha makes a vague sound. “Something like that. You… you know how Kray and Eri saved us, when we were kids?”

“We heard something about it,” Aina says, with careful softness. Which is to say, _I’m sorry for your loss._

It’s not particularly easy to forget. Golden flames, Kray picking him up, the whisper of cool scales as Erimosi slid down to wrap around a frantic Spitha…

Galo sighs, and pushes himself into a bit of a glide. Spitha keeps a steady trot with him as he says, “Well, a lot of… the chances I got were because of the governors being kind, and the other higher-ups know that. It’s given them enough trouble already, so I try to keep everything out here”—he gestures to the vast sky, dusk reflected on the smooth surface—“instead if anywhere else, so I don’t cause him any more trouble.”

There’s a brief hiss of shoe treads on ice, and Aina and Cindro skate by, outstripping them by a few feet. She turns around to face them, smiling. “That’s really thoughtful of you.”

“It’s the least we could do,” Spitha says, and nudges Galo into speeding up. They start going a little faster, but Aina and Cindro keep pace.

“We get it,” Aina says, as Cindro hooks his talons into her hood. “We feel that way about Heris and Kulpa, sometimes. But we know they’re proud of our work like we are of theirs, even if they don’t tell us the details.”

And then Cindro flaps his wings, and Aina speeds up, and Galo says, “That’s _cheating_!”

“What?” Aina calls back, all laughter and light. “I can’t hear you over how slow you guys are!”

“Slow?” Spitha narrows her eyes. “You take that back, Ardebit!”

“Ooh, last names, how scary,” Cindro croons, but their laughter quickly morphs into a sharp yelp as Spitha digs her claws in and rockets herself at Galo, the impact propelling both of them right into Aina’s path.

Cindro quickly takes off, staying out of contact distance for fear of flailing limbs, but Aina manages to roll on top of an awkwardly sprawled Galo. She checks where Spitha is (a half step back, looking far too proud of herself for someone who knocked her human so hard he went ass over teakettle) before raising her fist in triumph. “I still win!”

Galo rolls over, dislodging her onto the ice. “Yeah, but you…”

Fire.

Pink-blue, neon, a tiny little streak against the ice.

No, reflected _onto_ the ice from above.

Aina touches his shoulder. Her hand must’ve been extended to help him up for a while, if the worried crease to her brow is any indication. “Galo?”

“Look!” He points up, where a comet of a Burnish flame splits the sky. Its descent seems to angle not too far away, just at the base of the nearest mountain.

If Galo remembers correctly, there’s nothing but caves and forest out there. Wildlife, certainly, but no people to be endangered.

And yet, duty calls.

Cindro trills in alarm. “Burnish out here? Why?”

Galo and Spitha have already sprinted back to the edge of the frozen lake, though, scrambling back towards their motorbike. “Dunno, but call HQ!” Galo shouts as the vehicle purrs to life under him. Spitha, tucked in the place under his seat made specially for daemons, keeps an eye trained on the sky as they rocket off through the woods, Aina and Cindro’s reply stifled under the roar of the engine.

They know this area nearly as well as they know each other. Pinpointing the landing site is not as easy as they’d expected. Specifically, there’s no wildfire. The Burnish flame seems to have gone out after reaching the ground without burning a single thing.

Odd.

“Super weird,” Galo whispers, and hides the bike.

Spitha noses at the undergrowth, and then paws at her muzzle with a small huff. “I can smell _something_. Kind of familiar?”

“Can you follow it?”

“I’m not a bloodhound.” Spitha eyes the ground. “But we can follow footsteps, can’t we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Galo: Spitha, dalmation  
> Lucia: Vincere, mouse  
> Ignis: Soleil, panther  
> Aina: Cindro, black kite  
> Remi: Toshiko, mongoose  
> Varys: Adira, black bear  
> Meis: Cielo, ???  
> Gueira: Fulmine, ???  
> Lio: Envakma, ???  
> Vulcan: Uboj, dog  
> Thyma: Isaac, ???  
> Heris: Kulpa, ???  
> Kray: Erimosi, snake


End file.
